My family have never been actively religious, we never went to church together and they never encouraged me to have a faith when I was a child. My father is an atheist and my mother is a catholic.
It seems funny to me that my mother is so quick to reprimand me for saying ‘christ’ or ‘jesus’ when I’m angry, but has no ill-feelings towards any other kind of swear. In fact, she swears quite a lot. She isn’t bothered by my lack of faith (I’ve asked her) and neither am I bothered about her beliefs.
I remember once thinking during one of my gcse religious studies lessons that it must be really lovely to have a religion. To have this higher power to believe in, to have the feeling that there is always someone there to listen. One of my best friends said the same thing to me a couple of months later, much to my amusement.
And so proceeded a marathon googling session, one that I repeated just a few nights ago, to see if there was any kind of religion that I could buy into.
It seems that there are facets of each that intrigue me, but none that I can believe in wholeheartedly. This led me to think about the limitations that must be set in having this list of structured religions. As a child I was never forced into any religion, for which I am grateful, but neither was I encouraged to consider what I believed. Therefore, because I didn’t fit neatly into any one religion, I didn’t even stop to think about what I had a personal faith in. By this, I mean contemplating where we came from, where we go etc, outside of religious discourse.
An arbitrary thought, no doubt, but one that has at least distracted me for a couple of days.